


The Wonder Of Us

by ufp13



Category: Dances with Wolves (1990)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-04
Updated: 2010-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:11:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dances With Wolves - his present, his future, his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wonder Of Us

Disbelief and wonder still overcame Dances With Wolves as he tenderly caressed his wife. And he knew they would do so for some more months to come every time he lay his eyes on her. Lightly, he trailed his flat hand over the slight swell of her stomach, remembering the evening she had told him she was carrying his, their child. The news had moved him to tears, happy tears. The love for her which he had thought couldn’t have been stronger multiplied by countless times, making him feel as if he’d burst from it any moment. Lost in emotions, he had showered her stomach with kisses, had fallen asleep with his head resting on her abdomen, one of her hands stroking through his hair. That the feeling of wonder hadn’t ceased but increased as her body started to change to accommodate the life within amazed him. Somehow he had expected to get used to the fact that their wish, their dream of a family would really become true. Knowing that something could still go wrong, he tried not to be overjoyed, but found it hard to mute the happiness that filled him. His wife had already scolded him for hovering, for being overprotective, had come close to showing him she had earned her name. Stands With A Fist was a gentle, peaceful woman by heart; however, when threatened in any way, she would stand up and fight for hers and what she believed in. And she strongly believed in her freedom and independence. His mind knew she was right accusing him of these charges. His heart, though, was of the opinion he couldn’t be protective enough for it, he wouldn’t survive losing her and the child.

“Stop thinking,” she softly interrupted his thoughts.

Smiling at her knowing him too well, he looked up to find a mirroring smile on her face. Totally smitten by her, he crawled up to kiss her, pouring all his love for her into the oral caress. She returned the kiss just as lovingly.

Fast, the connection deepened, the kiss grew urgent, more heated.

Kneeling next to her, he had to shift his balance off his hands as her fingers started to dance over his body with need to stop their motion before they drove him to the point of no return; they tempted him to move over her, to take her.

Ever since they had first given in to each other, had surrendered to the longing to touch, they had a hard time keeping their hands off each other, and with her pregnancy, it had only become more difficult.

The older people of the tribe had lovingly teased them about it for a while. Typical newly-weds, they had smiled, remembering their own wedding. That had been months ago. By now, you couldn’t call them newly-wed anymore, but their behaviour hadn’t changed, and Dances With Wolves hoped it never would. He couldn’t imagine ever having enough of his wife. In her, he had found the peace his life had lacked for so many years. He treasured her, didn’t want her to see her hurt, didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to hurt their unborn child, thus he resisted her coaxing, gently tempering off the kiss. Obviously frustrated, she groaned in protest. As his caresses seldom failed to fuel her arousal, it wasn’t surprising that she was ready to jump his bones after patiently letting him satisfy his desire to touch her for a long while. Yet he couldn’t ignore the feeling of protectiveness, the need to go slow, to be careful. However, he was also aware that sooner or later she would have her way, would demonstrate him that a round of heated, passionate loving wouldn’t hurt her or their child. It wouldn’t be now, though, he sensed it in the way she looked at him – her gaze asking, pleading for his caress, for him – in the way she stretched, rubbed her skin against his, surrendering, submissive. “Take care of me and my needs,” her body said, and he would, would actually hurry to fulfil its request because he had heard the underlying “or I’ll take what I desire”, something he wasn’t yet ready to let happen, so he pressed his lips against hers again before stretching out on his side next to her to give his hands the opportunity to roam her body as they pleased while his lips could feast on hers.

An addict to her kisses he was since the first time he had felt them on his, a forbidden pleasure at that time, but oh so irresistible. Whereas the kisses were legal now, they hadn’t lost any of their power.

Gently, he stroked her body, fondled her breasts which grew along with her womb. Humming, she arched luxuriously into his touch. With a bit of reluctance, he left her mouth behind and kissed his way south to not neglect her breasts which his hand moved lower, unable to not linger at her stomach. The subconscious action earned him a soft giggle which he answered with a sheepish smile. He just couldn’t help himself, he loved the fact that their child was growing inside of her, had to reassure himself at every possible time that it all wasn’t a dream but reality, which annoyed and amused Stands With A Fist equally so he tried his best to reign himself in.

After one last rub, his hand resumed its course to the apex of her legs where he found her to be even wetter than he had expected her to be. Instantly, he felt guilty about selfishly indulging in touching her without any consideration of her. The bad conscience reflected in his eyes, he sought out her gaze. Before he could utter a word of apology, though, she whispered, “It’s okay.” How much must she love him to put up with him so patiently? What had he done to deserve her?

Gently but insistent, she pulled him down for a deep, slow kiss.

While their mouths caressed each other, Dances With Wolves pushed a finger between her labia, grazing her clitoris. Stands With A Fist bucked under his hand, a moan slipping into the kiss. Nibbling at her lower lip in goodbye, his mouth travelled downward along her body again to pay lip service to her breasts. He suckled at her nipples, licked and softly bit them, at the same time fondling her sex, rubbing her pleasure point, drawing sounds of joy from her throat, sounds he would never tire of hearing. Although Stands With A Fist always tried to hold back those vocalisations of her lust, she seldom fully succeeded. Tonight, she was past even trying, just gave herself over to the sensations his ministrations evoked. Dances With Wolves relished her responsiveness. During the war, his comrades had boastingly exchanged stories about sexual encounters and the women waiting for them at home. John Dunbar had never joined those discussions. He had only listened and built a fantasy life based on the tales of others, while not expecting to live long enough to have a chance for such a life. Contrary to his expectations, however, he had survived and had been blessed with a life that was nothing like the stories, but much more, much better. Dances With Wolves had a wife who loved him beyond reason yet stood up to him, and a child on the way. What more could he possibly ask for?

As her moans intensified, he sank an additional finger into her wetness. A few thrusts, some more rubs of his thumb were all it took for her to shatter in orgasm beneath his hands and mouth. Continuing to stimulate her, he watched her as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her. At the sight, his erect cock, which he had ignored for a while now in favour of pleasuring his wife, hardened even more, throbbed painfully.

When he finally eased his ministrations, her body went limp. Panting, she smiled at him, a hand stroking his chest, trailing downward, grazing his erection that pressed against her hip. He shook his head, was happy her needs were met, considered it payback for his taking time caressing her abdomen earlier. However, she wouldn’t have it.

As he resisted her attempts to pull him over her, she swung a leg over his thighs, pushing him onto his back in the motion so she towered over him, her wet heat in close contact with his hard flesh. Lustful yet with a shimmer of worry, he looked up at her. Softly shaking her head, she slid her hands up his torso, leaned down to kiss him, the swell of her belly grinding his stomach in the process. Unable to withstand its call, he trailed a hand along her ribcage to her stomach, palming, stroking while he answered her kisses with ones of his own. Her undulating hips, her wetness rubbing against his erection drove him crazy. Calling out to her in a whisper full of need, he almost begged her for fulfilment, his mind clouded by arousal, lust, the feeling of her against him.

A few fluid moves and he was enveloped by her.

Upon seeing her sitting on him, love and adoration rose to new heights within him. She was breathtakingly beautiful, even more so carrying their child, and, unbelievable as it was to him, his.

His hands on her hips, he steadied her as she selflessly rode him to orgasm at a lazy pace that had her breasts swaying softly and gave him the time to enjoy the experience and the view while not being too slow. As his thumbs drew circles on the sides of her stomach, a part of his mind wondered if she should do this, what it did to the life within her, but those thoughts didn’t last long for she robbed him of all coherency soon after by clenching her inner muscles around his member.

He tried to hold back, to not grab her too hard, to not thrust into her too forcefully, yet she made him loose control. She relished being able to do that, relished doing it, he knew. However given her condition, he hated his defencelessness against her allures. Trusting her to know what was best for her and the unborn one, he surrendered completely to his desire, to her. A handful of clashes of their pelvises later, he came in her, groaning in release.

Tenderly, her fingers stroked his face while he basked in the afterglow of his orgasm. Leaning into her touch, a broad smile formed on his lips.

“I love you,” he mouthed.

Making herself comfortable on his chest, she responded in kind before closing her eyes and snuggling even closer. He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head, wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as possible, as close as he dared.

Watching over her as she found her way into the land of dreams, Dances With Wolves stayed awake for a while longer, lost in the emotions this slender woman evoked in him.

 

= End =


End file.
